I felt her shift, and then she pulled my face forward. I reached forward with my tongue until I felt the valley between her cheeks. I ran my tongue up...and down along the crack of her ass and then around her rosebud. "Oh, that's so erotic," she said. "See if you can put your tongue right in my asshole. Can you do that? Can you fuck my ass with your tongue?" As I pushed my tongue into Maureen's ass, Sylvie picked up her pace, fucking me. "You like that, don't you?" she said to me. "You like to. I learned about a yearago that I had the power to enter other people's minds and either be a"Passenger" or in charge.I mostly enter the mind of guys and go to a movie or ball game orsomething like that, they don't seem to know that I am there when apassenger and even when I am in charge and, as hard as this is tobelieve, I still function in my own body at the same time. Let me giveyou an example; for instance if I have something to do, like homework,and I use another body to go somewhere, when. I don’t know what your plan is for me and us and I don’t care as long as I’m with you and you let me love you the way I should have the first time.”“After the divorce, I looked in the mirror one day and asked, “Who are you?”“In the mirror I saw a 32 year old narcissistic adulteress, divorcee whose belly was swelling with a man’s baby that couldn’t compete with her husband in any way. How pathetic is that. I was the daughter some mothers wish they never had. For sometime after that, even though. " Tell me that you love my cock, you love sucking it and you love thetaste of my sperm."I know that it didn't really mean anything; the stupid cunt would saywhatever she thought would please me but it gave me some degree ofsatisfaction to see her looking up at me saying it."I love your cock sir, I love sucking it and love the taste of yoursperm" The silly little cunt replied with a tear in her sad dejectedeye."Good girl Sophie, I think that you are going to be just perfect for medon't you.
Read MoreWe exchanged a few e-mails but eventually hestopped writing and I never got to see my pretty boy again. To berealistic, I suppose I'm not the kind of
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